It’s Not Over Until The Fat Lady Sings
Sunday, September 12th, 2004Dear One and All,
Unfortunately it appears Lisa Riley and Vanessa Feltz are duetting as James Michael Prescott and I are back in the motherland now after 5 months on the road in South America. I am pleased to report that we are both alive (or
Prescott was. The last time I saw him he was about to tell his missus about his ‘secret’ lust for men with tattoos and bikes).
The last month in Brazil was more loopy than Alton Towers. The carnival we went to was top drawer in a (brazil) nutshell you pay £25 for the most uminous t-shirt that you could imagine (Prescott was naturally delighted). They started the procession with a huge dinosaur roar, which was completely unnecessary as we both ducked and soiled our pants
simultaneously. The next 5 hours were spent dancing around a huge truck with a group called Nana Banana (nothing to do with dinosaurs)?! playing above.
Next day we got up at 7.30am after an hours sleep and headed to Jericoacoara (affectionately nicknamed Jerry Maguire) hear we settled down to catch some rays and get licked in inanimate places by dogs. That night was heavier than
Geoff Capes giving Rik Waller a piggy back, after 6 beers and 4 capirinhas(local spirit) Prescott and I were a bit overwhelmed by the alcohol and descended into a “You’re more gay”….”No, no you’re more gay” argument. Anyway we decided that Prescott was in fact more gay and stormed off in separate directions, as a peace offering I bought him another drink but he sloped off after meeting up with a man who’d overheard our argument and told him it was ok! Anyway I ended up necking these two drinks, explaining to 2 Americans how I liked Canadians better than them, before losing my
underpants (Presc also complained he lost his. Although a biker was seen with them on his aerial the next day), ended up barfing in a strangers room and having to change my shorts twice as aforementioned sick was drawn magnetically to shorts.
Then down the coast to Natal where we bought a footy and made our debuts on the beach. Presc and I were humbled by a dad and his 2 kids both under the age of 10. Whilst in Natal Prescott kept buying limes to try and bleach the ginger from his hair this was acceptable until he returned from the fruitand veg stall with courgettes and disappeared into the bathroom for hours on end. Then down the coast again to Prai da Pipa for days in the sun and watching monkies from our hammocks. Then Salvador and pretended that we loved local music.We then got on a bus where everyone was more excited than Prescott after hearing Will Young was moving to Bristol. For the next 27 and a half hours we put our legs around our heads became toilet attendants and served water toeveryone. Luckily we were sat next to the toilet as everyones bladders failed at the same time. Fortunately the bus was taking us to Rio!!!!Rio was tree-mendous. We went to Copacabana beach although Prescotts shortcut through the beach gym to observe was a bit unnecessary. We saw
some girl get knocked flat on here arse by a huge wave which was hilarious untilwe both entered the surf and were continually tripped and wrestled to the sea bed. Apparently the thong clad ladies were mighty impressed by the
amount of water we’d swallowed without chundering. We did all the touristy stuff such as Sugarloaf mountain, Copacabana and the big statue of Christ. The big man himself wouldn’t have been happy with us though because blasphemy was ripe on the beaches, we seemed to be surrounded by amazing women all the time. So every time we looked up to see thong clad lovelies it was like “OH MY GOD”, “JESUS CHRIST” and “HOLY MACKERAL”.
For some reason we were drawn back to the beaches, especially Sector 9 where all the hip and body beautiful people were (we fitted in really well, no really), day after day. One day whilst sat on the beach Prescott suddenly sprang to his feet, started jumping up and down whilst shouting “I WANT FACTOR 8”. Assuming that he was on about suntan cream I informed him matter of factly “Prescott if you wear factor 8 you will burn the sun is very strong in Rio”. When I listened more carefully though he was actually ranting that he wanted ‘SECTOR 8’, which is where the Sailors and bottom
ticklers gathered. Also went to the Maracana the home of Brasilian football and watched Flamengo. The fans had some class tunes, the best one went something like this. FLAMMY – FLAMMY – FLAMENGO, FLAMMY – FLAMMY – FLAMENGO, FLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-MEN-GOOOOOOOOOO. (If you aren’t at work sing it out loud its very catchy far better than that Natascha Doublebeddingcowfield)).Went hangliding over Rio as well which produced unnecessary sweat and bowel twitches but was class all the same especially as Prescott got tangled in a rope leaving him with a rope burn on his neck (this theory was later discredited and established as a lovebite from his pilot). Nights in Rio were spent watching Prescott experiment with hair straighteners ‘mixing with the locals’ and explaining that the ‘wrist rotation’ dance was better than samba.
The last few days were spent on an Island called Ilha Grande (translating as Island Big). It was big and was an island so they were spot on really. Did bit of surfing and played a massive game of beach footy where we were comprehensively destroyed.
Back to reality then with our tans not as good as first thought, we were busted at Heathrow stealing Orange felt tips from John Menzies. I’d like to think that Presc and I are ‘better’ people from our experiences but I think‘fatter’ would be more appropriate.(My excuse is that lots of food i.e. cakes and biscuits were called Brigadeiro which meant I had to eat them).
Oh well time to get a job and watch skateboarders overtake the British Isles.
Also I’d like to thank J.M.P. for putting up with us for the last five months but there was no need
to try and climb into my bed on the last night.
Love and Man Love
James xxxxxxxxxxxx
jamesbriggs11